


i am imprinted upon your stars

by riverbed



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Banter, Face Sitting, Fluff, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Restraints, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:03:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6936799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverbed/pseuds/riverbed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>john and lafayette have their own private rituals for when one of them needs a fresh start, a clear head.</p><p>what works for one man may not work for another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i am imprinted upon your stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [momentsinlove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/momentsinlove/gifts).



Laurens watches Lafayette’s chest rise and fall. His deep skin shines in the candlelight, already the barest trace of sweat glistening there. Laurens takes it in for a moment, his ropework, the loops around Lafayette’s forearms to his wrists, the way he curls his fists around the bits high enough to take in hand. The strip of dark fabric over his eyes - his own cravat, charcoal-grey silk, formal and, perverted like this, absolutely debauched. Laurens leans down, over his body, lays his tongue against Lafayette’s chest and feels him shiver, hears his heart beating fast. Lafayette is quiet but his breath comes quick as his pulse, ghosting against the top of John’s head. John sits back up where he’s straddling Lafayette’s thighs, lays his palm against his core and splays his hand out, wanting to touch as much of him at once as possible. Lafayette’s breeches ride low, unlaced, so John can slip his fingertips below the waist and press into the hollows of his hipbones. Lafayette gasps and wriggles, trying to get his cock against Laurens’ hand.

John tuts at him, draws his hand back and taps two fingers against his abdomen. “Learn to  _ wait," _ he admonishes, and Lafayette keens and pouts.

John holds true. Sometimes they need this, the both of them - they are both bloodthirsty, rash,  _ eager. _ The need to be forced to slow down tempts often, and Lafayette had come to him with the rope in his hand and said  _ Tonight, John _ and John had kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, hands grabbing at his skin because John is very good at taking. Lafayette has need to submit, John had felt it in the way he’d tipped his head back and yielded to his tongue. He revisits that now, registers the minute shift even though Lafayette’s head is against the bed - the way he opens to him, the way he shifts his legs further apart. John thinks of how he feels when he’s under Lafayette, how he likes to be touched when their positions are reversed; he skates his hands down Lafayette’s arms, the way that knocks the breath out of him when Lafayette does that to him with every nerve alight.

Lafayette’s body is tuned up, muscles tight, and John pulls back to breathe against his neck and play with his curls. He makes him wait and wait, and Lafayette just gets more and more beautiful as he does. John wraps a good chunk of his hair around his fist and tugs around experimentally, and Lafayette groans; John absorbs this, considers it. He imagines Lafayette’s eyes, probably rolled halfway back into his head. He’s growing hard beneath him, and John eyes his evident bulge, stuffed to the side of his breeches; his blood is thrumming for him, beating up insistently against his skin, but he’ll draw it out, because he’d be a fool to waste such beauty all laid out for him. John shifts down so he can more easily reach Lafayette’s crotch; he lays the heel of his hand over the bulge, grinning when Lafayette whimpers in response. He leans down to kiss his belly, the strip of hair below his navel, and feels him shake with anticipation. Laurens has to admit that he’s feeling it himself.

He unlaces the breeches the rest of the way, smelling the sweat and arousal on Lafayette’s skin as he frees his cock, and at the touch of cool air it jumps toward his belly, almost fully hard. John swallows. It’s been a while since he’s done this. He wraps his fingers slowly round Lafayette, listening hard for the way he sends up prayers in French, and strokes in uneven patterns till he’s full and leaking from the tip, and then he leans down, breathing soft against the underside of his shaft. Lafayette waits, and waits, and he lets out a soft whimper, struggling in his bounds. John grins, sinks his face into Lafayette’s hip just next to where he’s wanted. He can’t resist teasing, not when it’s so easy.

Lafayette’s whispering, head turned in an attempt to bury his face in his own arm. John sits up and tucks his index finger beneath his chin to coax him around, and Lafayette’s bottom lip shakes. “Speak up, love,” John says smoothly, attempting to mask the way his own voice has gone husky. “I won’t know what you want unless you speak up.”

Lafayette goes to bite his lip, but John puts his thumb on the skin, drags it down from between his teeth. He pushes in, presses his full lip back against his bottom teeth. “Tell me,” he growls, and Lafayette lets out a moan.

After that, it’s like a waterfall, crying out and pleading while Gilbert arcs his hips up from the bed and manages to lift John, ever so slightly, with his powerful thighs, his voice a high whine as he begs for any number of things Laurens might feel like giving to him. He just  _ needs, _ he insists, and when John asks what he needs he bucks and tries to get some friction on his cock, curled up to his belly. John shoves his hips down flat to the bed and shimmies up his body so he can hold him down at his core, sitting on his abdomen with a considerable amount of his weight. He knows he’s smaller than Lafayette but he can hold his own in a fight; he’s scrappy and strong. And he can throw his weight around concisely, he can hold a man down. Even one as evenly matched intellectually to him as Lafayette; it is perhaps because he knows him so well, or maybe because Lafayette trusts him. John’s the only man Lafayette would defer to. He settles against his stomach, ass just above Lafayette’s cock. He rocks back ever-so-slightly, feeling the brush of the head against his own warm skin. John’s been nude for what feels like ages, and he fists his own prick as the game goes to his head; he wants Lafayette strung out for him and begging,

He’s certainly worked himself up into quite a frenzy, John observes; he sees the blush on Lafayette’s chest and cheeks, the bite-swollen scarlet of his lips, the sweat on his neck and chest. John uses his other hand to reach down and tweak a nipple, and Lafayette yelps and then purrs when John soothes with the flat of his hand. “Very pretty,” he says. “God, you’re so pretty, Gil.” He lets his hand wander, the other stroking himself more and more frantically; he traces the muscles under Gilbert’s skin and picks apart the rich tones he’s made up of. John is in love, he recognizes it distantly as love; as much fight is in he and Lafayette and Alexander they also have infinite love to give. How fortuitous that it’s found them three together on the battlefield.

But Hamilton is quiet and mouselike, more generous than John and Lafayette put together. He can’t imagine denying either of them a single thing, let alone taking anything slow. It’s why he and Lafayette creep away, find their own time; Alexander doesn’t understand their dynamic, and so he’s better saved for when affection is the goal. The idea here is a breakdown, a reset. Alexander is all soft kisses and murmured oaths; John lets Lafayette bruise him up, his ass and thighs, sometimes the tender soles of his feet, and it sates them both. Lafayette lets John tease him, wants him to get him past rational thought. This, also, suits John just fine. He likes feeling powerful.

He feels powerful hearing Lafayette’s sobs of loss as John comes on his chest by his own hand. He runs his hand through some of his release, strokes Lafayette’s cheek with that sticky hand. “Don’t worry, love,” he tells him, his voice honeyed-sweet, “there’s plenty for you.” He lets Lafayette draw his fingers into his mouth and suck, presses down on his tongue just to see. He chuckles at how obedient and soft he is, how pliant when he’s gone down like this. He leans down to kiss him slowly, even though Laf’s impatient, tasting the salt in his mouth from his own spend. “Open me up so I can take you,” John says against his lips, and Lafayette shivers, nods.

Lafayette lifts his hands expectantly and John doesn’t untie them, but he does pull them forward so Lafayette can get a better angle; they lay awkwardly on his back, and John tells him to tap if he needs him to let up. John turns, backs up toward the headboard, toward Lafayette’s face, looks over his shoulder to line himself up but Lafayette finds him right away, even blind, John bent forward over his body on his knees straddling his chest and Lafayette licking his way in, his body loosened and ready as a result of his prior orgasm. John moans, suddenly very needy for it himself. Lafayette slowly inches backward, forearms dragging lower down John’s back, and John follows him till he has to lift his hips to find all the contact. He sits up, careful with his weight, covers Lafayette’s face. Lafayette greedily keeps his tongue in him, a constant, firm pressure, wiggling expertly, and John gasps and reaches back to grip his hair, keep him right where he is.

“Gosh, you’re so precious for me, love. So desperate for that ass, huh, darlin’?” John lets his accent drawl, lets himself let go. He wants to consume Lafayette whole, wants to mark him up and claim him as his own. He wants Alexander here, watching him owning him. He wants wants wants.

He pulls away as he feels his own dick start to harden once more, and he sucks Lafayette’s cock into his mouth, drops down just once and then drags back up, pops off wetly. “Mm,” he says involuntarily, contentedly, smiling in anticipation. “Just what I’ve been looking for.”

He swings his legs to turn back around, grinds a few times down into Lafayette’s groin where he straddles him, now just where he’s needed to be all along; the cradle of Lafayette’s hips, the way they rock as he throws his arms back above his head in defeat and scrunches his face up, trying to quell the growing arousal; these are the things John needs constantly, he swears it why he’s in this war. Lafayette mutters a final plea, mostly John’s name, and he is helpless to resist him, has to give him everything he’s ever wanted right this second.

He lines himself up, lowers down slow on his knees, his thighs burning. Lafayette winces at the tightness as he sinks, but John is open and willing, accepting his girth with grace.  _ Do all things with dignity, _ he remembers being taught as a child. He wills himself to relax further and finally, finally, Lafayette is buried deep within him, so exquisite the fullness that John is compelled to roll his own hips a few times to feel everything before he can really move for Laf’s benefit.

Lafayette mewls, but he keeps his hips obediently still, and John smiles. He leans down, presses his chest against Lafayette’s, and the taller man’s legs follow him to bend at the knee and give him some leverage. John nips at Lafayette’s ear and begins moving, sliding up and down his body in a minute, soothing rocking motion while kissing his neck, and it lulls him into shutting his eyes, enjoying the closeness and how full he feels when he drags out to be open around the thickest part.

That’s nice for a while, but his cock keeps dragging on Lafayette’s defined abdominals, and he’s watching the way his shoulders jump whenever John sinks low on him and then there’s a shift in their angle where John’s prostate gets hit dead on and John  _ cries out,  _ then he bites hard into Lafayette’s shoulder and moans, “Give it to me, Gil, come on, give me what you’ve got,” and Lafayette starts using the leverage of his planted feet, starts thrusting up into Laurens with everything he has. And John wants it all, every piece of him he wants to feel and kiss and claim and own. He growls and tugs at Lafayette’s skin with his teeth, rough and ferocious, and Lafayette moans and throws his head back into the pillow, again lifting John a few inches as he buries himself in him over and over. John relishes feeling small, being on top. He likes being reminded that he can overpower, that he can conquer and win, that even with a cock in his ass he’s still the one in charge, his partner begging for his release.

John says he can come if he keeps it inside him and he goes back to rolling around on it, sits up and rides for himself for a few minutes, more grinding than actually pulling up and sinking back down. He likes the stretch and slight burn of this position, the feeling that his body’s being pushed to its limit. He can also gaze down at Lafayette’s face as he comes, and he talks him all the way through it, encouraging, praising as he arches his own back to take him even deeper. John comes with a cry soon after, and he slumps back on Lafayette’s legs, takes his foot in his hand and digs his knuckles into the arch in a painful massage.

Lafayette kicks out half-heartedly, too exhausted to really commit. John snickers and climbs up the bed, undoes the blindfold, and Laf watches him as he undoes the ropes. He flexes his wrists for him, rubs the redness out of his arms. Lafayette pulls him down for a kiss by a firm grip in his hair, and John sighs, settling down next to him as they kiss.

There’s quiet for a few minutes. “Alexander really should…”

“Learn to appreciate? I know, Gil.” He strokes Lafayette’s chest, down to his belly. “His heart’s too big. You give him those puppy dog eyes and what’s a man to do.” Lafayette giggles quietly, and John feels his heart flutter.

“He’s rather like a puppy dog himself, you know,” Gilbert says.

“Now, isn’t that an idea?”

**Author's Note:**

> title's from cavalry captain by the decemberists


End file.
